Peace of Mind
by JBKAF Productions
Summary: Collaboration of authors-two stories using the same song for inspiration. One-shots.
1. Take One

Disclaimer: The people belong to Mr. Schwartz and Mr. Fox. The lyrics belong to the late John Lennon and Sir Paul McCartney. Here's a question: what the hell's actually ours?

AN: Okay, guys. This was a little experiment we tried. We took identical lyrics and wrote separate stories using the lyrics as our sole inspiration without sharing until the stories were finished. This chapter is the first author's story and the next is the other author's story. See what you guys think. Know who wrote what? This is take one.

I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink  
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink.  
I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink...  
No, no, no.

Kirsten grinds the wet sand between her toes until the friction rubs her skin raw. She shivers, wraps her arms around her midsection, but keeps her gaze set on the blackened horizon. White caps pepper the black scenery in front her - otherwise, darkness envelopes the landscape, having it appear endless, scary and dangerous. Such a large infinitive back hole could easily swallow…she doesn't finish the thought as another nervous shiver complements the instant nauseated feeling that always plagues her when she's worried. That very feeling's been following her around everywhere she's gone for the last three weeks.

Three weeks.

Three weeks since she's slept through the night.

Three weeks since she's smiled and genuinely laughed.

Three weeks since she's seen her boys.

Three weeks since she's cried.

Three weeks ago, she didn't think it could get any worse.

Three weeks ago, she was a different person with a different life.

The weeks ago, she had hope.

She glances over her shoulder. A soft light glows behind her bedroom window. She's not surprised that Sandy's still awake. They've barely spoken - really spoken - since that fateful night. He's heavy with exhaustion, just as she is, and he rarely says a word unless it's directly related to the cause of their mutual depression. They don't blame each other - at least, she knows she doesn't blame him - but the heightened stress of the last three weeks has pushed them apart.

They share the same hope, but they can't always share the same space. So every night, he sits at the small table in their bedroom and pretends to read a book, clutching the phone with one hand, willing it to ring while she retreats to the beach. The beach where she watched her son grow up. Just feeling the sand between her toes and listening to the soft crash of waves makes her feel closer to her son.

All the while she grips onto her cell phone like a life raft. If he calls, she's damn well going to be there to answer him. She turns it over in her palm and examines the loose hinge. It wasn't like that three weeks ago.

She didn't have these worries three weeks ago. She was completely unprepared for the events that would leave her feeling so empty that hope has become a foreign feeling.

She laughs at herself when she remembers her biggest worry that morning had been gaining Julie Cooper as a step-mother. She had no idea that two of the most important people in her life would be taken away from her. It all seems to trivial now. So meaningless and inconsequential. Selfish.

She contemplates trekking back up to the house to retrieve a bottle of wine, but she doesn't want to leave and she doesn't want to alarm Sandy. She'll wait until he's asleep before retreating to the warmth of their bedroom. They have nothing to say to each other and they don't need the awkwardness of silent company. When you're a Cohen, silence is unnerving.

A large, crashing wave snaps her attention back to the raging pool of water that she prays hasn't claimed the life of her son.

She scans the empty beach which is illuminated just enough for her to distinguish the rocks from the sand, and the water from a boat…if need be. The sandy beach is meticulous - not a single pebble seems out of place. She doesn't comes down here as much as she did when they first moved in. Seth would wade through the shallow water and she would read her book, holding it low enough to keep on eye on him. Though it was always easy to tell when Seth strayed because that was the only time she couldn't hear him. Even at that age, the kid just loved to talk.

He's always been a Cohen. She was born a Nichol, she had to learn how to deal with Sandy's chatter and nervous energy. As soon as Seth found out he could express himself in words, they'd had no peace; she was given a constant window into his world. She'd give anything to hear him talk about superheroes or movie stars or oatmeal. She'd give anything just to hear his voice.

She's been remembering a lot on the lonely nights she's spent sitting on the same rock, dreading the same thoughts, making the same wishes.

Sometimes she forgets about Ryan, and the guilt that floods her entire body when she comes to that realization is debilitating. She wonders if there's a limit to the amount of worry one person can feel. If so, she's surely reached her threshold.

Losing one of her kids would be enough worry her senseless, but knowing that there's two teenage boys out there that she's supposed to be responsible for, and she has absolutely no control over their lives any longer…she swears she can feel her heart seizing.

She wonders if Sandy thinks about Ryan. Ryan's on land. Ryan's safe…or safe enough. But Seth's lost in the unknown. They don't really speak of Ryan. They allude to him, but she can't actually remember mentioning his name in several days.

Again, the unbearable guilt and sadness consumes her, and she shivers, clutching herself tighter as a cool breeze rolls in off the top of the waves.

****

I wonder should I call you, but I know what you'd do

Ryan, however, knows about Seth's disappearance, and immediately sliced all contact with Kirsten. Whether or not he talks to Sandy, she doesn't know. They don't talk about Ryan. But when she thinks about him, _really thinks_ about him, she has to fight the urge to drive down to that hellhole of a town he called home his entire childhood, grab him by the scruff of the neck, chastise him for not being more sexually responsible, and banish him to the poolhouse for months. Sure, he might hate her, but she'd rather him hate her and know where he is than continue to live in a state of paralyzing self-doubt.

She shouldn't have let him go. She should have told him how much he meant to her, how much he meant to her family. She shouldn't have let him go. She should bring him home. She doesn't care if it makes him hate her, at least he'd be home.

But Ryan would find a way to reason. He'd find a way out. He'd find a way to torture and cut himself down by placing ten years worth of responsibility on his back. It just isn't right. But that's who Ryan is. That's why she loves him. Sandy loves him. Seth loves him.

As much as she tries to keep an open mind and understand Ryan, some of the choices he makes are beyond her comprehension. She could always lure Seth into doing something by dangling bait in front of his nose. A new comic book, a piece of cake, or as he got older, the promise of a new car. He would literally latch onto these offerings like a bloodhound on the trail of a jackrabbit, oblivious to the world around him. But that was never the case with Ryan. Ryan was too skeptical. If something was good, it was too good. There had to be a reason. He was always looking for the catch, because in his life, there was always a catch. Kirsten sometimes wished that he'd just relax, allow himself to enjoy a moment or a gift, but that wasn't how he worked. It's a part of Ryan that she's grown to appreciate despite her disapproval.

She never thought it would affect him like this. She never thought that it would affect their entire family like this.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

****

You'd say I'm putting you on  
It's not joke, it's doing me harm  
You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain  
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane

Summer examines the nail of her pinky finger, puts it in her mouth, but removes it before she can bite down. She can't remember the last time her nails were colorless - naked. But they've been spending too much time between her teeth lately to justify the expense of having them done. She picks up a bottle of clear polish from the edge of her dresser and returns to her bed. Grabbing a pillow, she places it on her lap and carefully concentrates on applying the transparent coating.

She's sure people stare. Where she lives, a girl her age walking around without nail polish draws about the same amount of attention as if she were to wear a garbage bag to school. They stare, they whisper, they make conclusions based on what they see, but they have no idea what her life's been like for the last three weeks.

She hates Seth for what he did to her. She hates Ryan for what he did to Seth. And she hates herself for caring so goddamned much.

But whether she likes it or not, she feels betrayed. Alone. He left her through a note. A fucking handwritten note without a single sarcastic comment. He might as well as punched her in the face or made out with some whore in front of her, because that probably would have hurt less. He didn't know her at all if he thought that some fucking note was going to make her forget about him.

His gentle touch. His declaration of love on top of the kissing booth. His frizzy hair making her neck itch when they lay in bed together. Like she could forget about that. She wants to, but she can't convince herself to let go. The worst part of it all is she wants to see his face so badly. She wants to touch him, to make sure he's okay, and then slap him with all her might and tell him to screw off.

She hates that. It makes her feel needy and that disgusts her. She's never needed anyone and she certainly never thought she'd need Seth Cohen. But as the days slowly creep by, she cares less and less about what she looks like. She cares less and less about tanning, her nails, her hair…everything that makes her vain enough to be accepted in Newport.

All because he decided to throw a tantrum when his best friend had to leave.

She doesn't feel like dressing up and strutting around like everything's normal. She's tired of hiding behind sparkly nail polish or a new pair of shoes. She can't bring herself to care about that right now. She cares about Cohen.

She has all the money she could ever ask for. She has a car, a huge house, a trust fund…but she'd give it all away in a heartbeat if she could just know that Seth would be all right.

He'd never believe her. She can barely believe it herself.

She's not supposed to care.

She'd promise to never paint her nails again, never spend a ridiculous amount of money on an outfit that she knows she'll only wear once…she give up her life as she knows it. And she hates herself for it. In fact, she despises herself. This is not how she's supposed to feel.

****

I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind

As much as she tries to deny it, she can't deny the endless afternoons spent waiting. The nights she's spent tossing and turning. The morning's spent lying in bed, watching the phone.

She hates Seth Cohen, and she's never wanted him more.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

****

I'm so tired, I'm feeling so upset  
Although I'm so tired, I'll have another cigarette  
And curse Sir Walter Raleigh. He was such a stupid git.

Every night after dinner, Ryan slips out the back door for some "fresh air." He mentally laughs at the irony of the entire excuse when he realizes just how many cigarettes he goes through in the short amount of time he's gone.

He walks up and down the lifeless streets which are lit by a few sputtering streetlights that are soon to die like their neighbors.

He needs to be alone sometimes. If Theresa doesn't understand, she doesn't let on. She's hormonal, and when she's on a downswing, she can poke fun at herself, but a lot of the time she can be overwhelming - smothering, and Ryan's learned to savor every moment of silence because he knows it'll be short-lived.

She talks a lot. Seth talked a lot, but in a different way. He'd talk for no apparent reason and Ryan didn't get a headache trying to piece all of the facts together. Theresa talks with purpose and she insists on having an attentive audience.

Theresa voice winds him up while Seth always brought down. So he leaves and walks and smokes and kicks stones across the ground for sport. It's always felt good to have time to himself.

But lately, he's come to dread the time spent alone, without the distractions of hormones and everyday life. The quiet time allows his mind to work, to think, to process what he tries hard not to think about.

He flicks his lighter, protecting the fragile flame from the wind with a cupped hand and inhales deeply off the smoke. He wonders if Seth thought to bring a light. Food. Water. Money.

A few weeks ago Ryan would never have questioned Seth's intelligence, but he's since proven that he's not as smart as Ryan had given him credit for. .

He stops, pats his pocket to feel the familiar outline of his cell phone, and continues. He's constantly checking for that phone, which is ridiculous because he knows he always has it with him and turned on…just incase.

Ryan pictures Seth on his stupid fucking boat, calling inland for help. Seth wouldn't forget his cell, that much Ryan was sure of. God he loved that stupid boat. Ryan had been on that boat. That boat was a glorified raft.

Seth wasn't stupid. Seth had to know he wouldn't get far.

But it's been three weeks. Three weeks and no one's heard a word.

Ryan talks to Sandy on and off, but the usually optimistic man sounds a little less like himself with every phone call. It scares Ryan. It scares him to be scared. He thought he'd be desensitized to fear by now. But this…this is different. It's not his own life he's worried about.

Theresa nonchalantly asks about Seth and his whereabouts. Ryan doesn't know if she can see how her words spark panic inside of him. He should tell her. She deserves to know why he doesn't sleep. Instead he lets her believe that the Cohens have accepted his choice to come home to Chino. She seems comfortable with that. At least, more comfortable than she would be knowing that Seth's disappearance is the reason behind their negligence and his sleepless nights. There's no reason to worry her too.

He kicks a stone and watches it bounce over all the cracks in the sidewalk, rolling to the edge and falling through an opening in the sewer grate. A soft "plunk" sound echoes in the tunnel. Ryan stops, looks down at the black hole, tosses the remains of his cigarette through the same opening and continues to walk slowly down the tree-lined street toward home.

As he does every night, he prays Seth meets a kinder fate than the stone and cigarette butt.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

****

You'd say, I'm putting you on  
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm

Seth pulls on a smelly shirt and cringes when the damp material settles against his already clammy skin. It feels weird not having someone to do his laundry, to make his meals, to change the sheets on his bed…to check up on him. He's on his own. Completely.

As strange as it is being on his own for the first time in his life, he just can't imagine staying home. Home: where nothing makes sense and one dysfunctional relationship breeds another and another until Julie Cooper's his new grandma and the only real friend he's ever had has assumed paternal responsibility for something he's sure isn't his. Everything's so fucked up and he knows that it'll never be okay again. He doesn't want to be there to see the damage that's sure to come.

Seth should have left a long time ago. Before all of this mess. Before Ryan. Even before Summer. Good things never last too long in Newport and his life was getting a little too good to be true. He was naïve to think it could go on that way for much longer.

****

You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain  
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane

His phone's battery died after a week, and for that he's thankful. It saves him from making those impulse phone calls when he's panicking in the middle of the night, begging his parents to come get him because he misses his bed, his clean clothes, his shower…hell, even his mom and dad. Night's are the hardest.

But when the sun comes up, everything falls back into place and he's thankful he didn't have a phone available in his weakest moment because when he really thinks about it, he doesn't want to go home.

Life on his own isn't half bad. Or at least, it isn't half as bad as it would be if he was still in Newport.

He sits on the edge of the dock where his boat sat tied for the first couple weeks, and dangles the toes of his toes into the dark, cold night water. He had to sell Summer Breeze a few days earlier to subsidize his living expenses. Soon, he thinks, he'll have to get a job. A job that allows him to eat, buy new clothes and pay for an apartment. He hasn't even considered what to do about school. He stores that in the back of his mind along with fleeting thoughts of Summer. He told her to move on with her life and forget about him, but at night he dreams that she's with him and he secretly prays that she'll find him so they can experience freedom together. Deep down, he knows that's why he hasn't strayed far from home.

Then there's Ryan. He knows everyone's going to think Ryan's the reason he left. They don't understand and he doesn't expect them to. Ryan's the reason he stayed. He would have chosen this route long ago had Ryan not arrived and made his life in Newport slightly more bearable.

He looks out into the distance but can't distinguish the black sky from the dark blue water. It's at night when it's hardest to be alone, and every night he fights the same urge to run to the nearest pay phone and call his mom, his dad, Summer, Ryan, even his grandpa if he's available, tell them he's sorry and beg them to pick him up.

Sometimes all he wants is to go home. But home isn't home anymore.

**You know I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind**

He bites his bottom lip and does everything within his power to suppress the panic. But deep down he knows that one day it's going to get to be too much. One day he'll snap. One day he'll give up everything he's earned out on his own for the slightest peace of mind. He's knows he's not strong enough to last forever. Until that day, he'll struggle to make it work. He owes it to himself.

Before he gets up, he grabs the rock from the corner of the dock and scratches a horizontal line into the weathered wood to connect six small dashes. He takes a second to admire the three bundles of seven he's engraved during his stay.

Three weeks. He's already made it three weeks.


	2. Take Two

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything OC related. Lyrics by the Beatles._

**_Peace of Mind_**

**_I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink  
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink.  
I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink...  
No, no, no._**

He'd stayed in Chino with Teresa three weeks before they'd moved into the Cohen's poolhouse.

Seth was gone. He'd hear rumblings of cryptic letters addressed to his parents, but no one was really talking to him about it.

He doesn't blame them. It was his fault that Seth was gone.

No one really talks to him at all except Teresa, anymore.

His days have become a tense routine. He gets up at seven, makes breakfast for Kirsten and Teresa and leaves it covered on the counter. Rosa had to be let go once Caleb's assets were frozen by the feds. Sandy's money was enough to support the family but he didn't see the need for Rosa anymore. Ryan doesn't mind. He takes care of the housework.

He leaves the house at seven forty-five and heads down to the construction site. He'd made some connections with the company that did all the work on the Lighthouse and they'd taken him on their crew when he'd applied. It's hard work, but it's in Newport so he can be close to the Cohens.

He comes home at lunch and gives Teresa a ride to her job at the bakery by the pier. They share her convertible. Sandy drives the BMW and the Rover stays in the driveway. Kirsten doesn't go many places anymore. He enjoys the short time with Teresa and its one of the few times he relaxes anymore. After she goes into the bakery, he returns to the site.

After work, he goes straight home. Usually Kirsten is in the kitchen with papers scattered on the counter. She always has a glass in her hand. At first, it was merlot. Lately, it's been vodka over ice.

She doesn't even smile at him anymore. She doesn't even pretend that she's glad to see him.

He thinks that she resents him. If he hadn't left, Seth wouldn't have left. He came back, but her son didn't. He thinks that she hates him for trying to fill a role that isn't vacant. She has a son, a real son, but he's not here and its Ryan's fault.

Ryan asks her if she's eaten and she always says no. She doesn't eat alone. He fixes her something if there's anything in the refrigerator and if not, he leaves again to get her take out. He watches her eat it. She takes a bite and then chases it with a swallow.

He wonders if Sandy knows how she drinks. All day every day. Sandy stays at the office until at least midnight, trying to save his wife's father. He's trying to salvage his family and Ryan can't bear the thought of giving him something else to worry about.

He came home so he could be there for Sandy and Kirsten. Sandy depends on him. He might not call or see Ryan but a few times a week, but he depends on Ryan and he won't let Sandy down.

So he feeds Kirsten and listens to her slurred requests. The toilet's broken. He fixes it. He makes her bed. He dusts Seth's room. He goes out for groceries. He buys her the vodka she likes.

He can't say no to her. He won't. He's not supposed to.

She doesn't meet his gaze. For the first time in his life, he's trying to look people in the eyes but she won't look at him. He's not worthy of her gaze.

She's not the woman he remembers. The alcohol or the lack of her son has done something to her. She says things to him that he knows she doesn't mean.

You need to clean the pool again. Since we're letting you stay here for free, you need to do something to pay us back.

When the baby comes, you're going to have to do something about the noise. I can't take crying babies in the morning, it's just too much noise. You need to look into that.

When Seth gets home, I don't want you bothering him. He's my son and I should have never let you near him. You drove him away from his family.

He lets her words roll over him. He doesn't let them sink in. She only gets mean before he has to leave to get Teresa. She's usually on the couch by then so when he pulls out his keys in preparation to go pick her up, she starts in. It's the only time she looks at him.

He tells her that he'll be right back and she usually starts to cry.

He always buys extra boxes of Kleenex when he goes shopping for groceries.

He leaves to pick up Teresa.

Her feet always hurt these days, the weight of the baby and the constant walking take their toll. He brings her back to the poolhouse and rubs her feet. He enjoys the fact that he can actually do something for her.

Everything he does is futile, now. But he can rub her feet and it helps. It's such a small thing but the fact that she appreciates him means everything to him.

Around eleven, he'll go inside and put Kirsten to bed. She's usually passed out where he left her and he carries her to the master bedroom and gently places her on the bed. He cleans up her glass, and her vomit, if she has an accident.

Then he goes to the poolhouse.

Teresa doesn't make him talk, but if he wants to, she listens. She knows he doesn't sleep. She doesn't nag him. She knows that he doesn't eat. She doesn't nag him about that either.

Because she knows that she's too round and rosy for the baby to be his. She's too far along for there to be any chance of him being the father of her child.

But he doesn't complain so she lets him be.

He holds her and he finally lets himself relax, he can feel her shaking with his tremors. She can feel him shaking when he finally lets his guard down.

****

I'm so tired, I don't know what to do  
I'm so tired, my mind is set on you

Sandy slams his fist on the table. He wishes it would make a dent so he could see some sign of his effort. But the desk is strong and wooden and it doesn't care how hard he hits it, it's not going to budge.

Caleb's going to jail and there's not a damn thing he can do about it.

His son's missing and floating around God-knows-where and there's not a damn thing he can do about it.

He's never lost this much control.

He agreed to let Ryan go to Chino because it was the right thing to do.

He asked him to come back because he didn't know what else to do. He needs Ryan close. He needs something he can control. Ryan's in the poolhouse, he's safe, he's not alone.

Seth's alone. Seth's not safe.

And Sandy can't stop thinking about him.

Seth's a smart kid, but they'd spoiled him. Seth has never had to live without money, he's never had to go to a strange place without a credit card or a cell phone or a safety net.

Seth's lost.

Sandy returns his attention to the pages and pages of evidence against his father in law. He has to focus and channel all his worry into this case.

Kirsten will never forgive him if he lets her father go to jail. She'll never forgive him if she loses her father, too.

He can't take seeing his wife so broken. She doesn't go to work anymore, she just sits at home and worries.

He wants to take her in his arms and make everything okay but he can't. He's trying, but he hasn't fixed things yet.

He has to fix things. He has to work harder. His money supports the family now, his time is devoted to Caleb's case now.

He's the man of the house, he has to take care of everything.

He's always wanted her to depend on him but now that she does, he's not sure he's going to be able to come through.

He has to save Caleb. If he can't find Seth, he has to save Caleb.

One thing at a time. Seth is okay. He won't have it any other way.

****

I wonder should I call you, but I know what you'd do

Seth's staring at the payphone again.

He's been docked at this small marina for days and no one's bothered to stop and talk to him.

He doesn't remember why he thought this was a good idea.

He's sunburned and his skin flakes off a little more every day.

He feels like he's decaying.

The payphone taunts him from the dock. It's outlined from the streetlight and it's clearly not a popular phone since it's phone book is still intact and hasn't been stolen from its cable yet.

He thinks about calling his parents. He thinks about calling Summer. He needs to say he's sorry for leaving a note. He needs to say he's sorry for leaving.

He thinks about calling Ryan.

He wants to know if his parents will ever forgive him. He wants to know if Summer will ever be able to love him again. He wants to know if Ryan will still be his best friend.

He wants to know if he's really lost everything.

But he doesn't pick up the phone.

He eats from the snack machine that's on the nearby pier for transient fishermen. He put a twenty in the machine on his first day and has a sock full of change to sustain him.

The change would sound the same whether it was dropped in the payphone or the snack machine.

The snack machine taunts him every time he drops in a quarter. Instead of giving him contact with his family, it gives him a package of Twinkies or a six-pack of cheese crackers.

He knows that Summer won't wait for him. He knows that his parents will never love him the same way for leaving. He knows that Ryan won't understand why he had to leave.

He wants to explain it to them.

But he has to understand it himself first.

He left because he needed to come to terms with the changes in his life.

But it didn't work.

It isn't working.

He's more alone than he's ever been.

And this time it's his own fault.

Fucking payphone.

****

You'd say I'm putting you on  
It's not joke, it's doing me harm  
You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain  
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane

Summer can't stop thinking about that punk, Cohen.

She knows that she's being obsessive but she can't stop.

Is her phone fully charged? Has she checked the answering machine at her house? Has she checked her email? Have there been any postcards for her? Is the mailman on time?

She's tried to keep herself distracted by going to the infamous Newport summer parties but she's tired of dragging Marissa's drunk-ass home every night.

She has enough on her mind to spare any thoughts for her friend's desperate need for attention. She's known Marissa forever but she can't help her now. It's her turn to be "self-absorbed." God knows she's earned it.

Marissa has to want to get better and she doesn't. She doesn't listen. She just talks.

And Summer really needs someone to listen.

She's tried going to Cohen's house, but Kirsten is a wreck. Summer doesn't know when she started drinking but she thinks that Marissa's got a role model. Kirsten drinks all day. Marissa would if she could wake up before five.

She's tried talking to her "friends" but they never understood her relationship with the "emo-geek" anyway. They tell her to move on. They're so dense that they don't see that she can't.

She's tried talking to her father but he didn't like Cohen, either. He tells her to move on. She's never hated her father before but the way he shrugs off Cohen hurts her more than she could ever say.

The only person that seems to listen to her is Teresa.

She finds herself at the bakery by the pier a few times a week. Teresa brings her coffee, decaf, because she knows that Summer doesn't sleep. Teresa sits with her on her breaks and listens to Summer talk about Cohen.

Teresa doesn't know Cohen but she understands because she knows Chino.

Teresa knows what it's like to lose someone and not know where they are. Chino left her without a word once. He was just gone. Just like Cohen.

But Teresa got Chino back. Summer has hope when she sees Teresa.

Teresa gives her gentle hugs that make Summer want to cry.

Summer likes Teresa more than she likes Marissa these days.

Marissa's never listened to her. She's never understood why Summer loves Cohen. Summer thinks that Marissa doesn't understand love because she hates herself.

Summer never knew love either until it fell into her lap.

And she lost it. She lost Cohen.

Summer goes out to eat with Teresa and Chino sometimes.

Being near Chino makes her feel closer to Cohen.

Chino is Cohen's polar opposite. He doesn't talk, he doesn't babble, he doesn't joke. But he listens and smiles and when he says something, he's actually thought about it in his head first. Cohen's all about talking on impulse but Chino is all about methodic planning. It's hard for her to picture Chino with a temper since he keeps himself under such tight control.

He takes care of Teresa. He holds the door open for her, he doesn't smoke cigarettes when she's within inhalation distance, he keeps his arm on her back for support when they walk up stairs.

Chino would take care of Summer, too, if she'd let him. She sees the way he looks at her, worry in his eyes.

But Summer isn't a damsel in distress that needs saving.

She just needs Cohen.

She knows that Chino needs him, too.

She's so mad at Cohen for abandoning her, abandoning them all.

She just wishes she could see him again so she could tell him.

****

I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind

Teresa knows that something is wrong. She's known it all day.

Ryan slept all night last night. He hasn't slept a full night since they've been back at the Cohens, but last night, she'd woken up and realized that he was snoring softly.

She should have known that it was a sign that something was going to happen.

He'd brought her to work and now that she's finished, she's waiting on the curb.

He's always on time. He's never late. But he's not there.

She calls Summer to pick her up. Summer had only just left the bakery as it was closing so she doesn't have too come far to get her.

Summer knows that something is wrong, too. She knows just by looking at Teresa.

Teresa wants Ryan to be happy. She wants him to know that she'll love him forever and that he doesn't have to take care of her like he does for everyone else. She wants to take care of him.

But he's so strong and unwilling to admit that he needs her.

He lets her take care of him as much as he can. He cries in her arms. He shakes in her arms. He lets her hold him and she knows that he's never let anyone do that for him before. Ryan doesn't know how to let people help him. He's never had anyone that's even tried. He's conditioned to take care of himself.

Summer parks her car beside the yellow convertible.

Teresa doesn't go in through the main house, she never does. She accepts Summer's hand in hers as they walk around the edge of the house toward the poolhouse. She's scared. Ryan's never late. Something's happened. Summer feels it, too. Something's wrong. She's grateful for the girl's support.

Summer gasps and Teresa follows her gaze.

She breaks away from Summer and rushes to the edge of the pool.

Ryan's body is lying beside the Jacuzzi. His head has a halo of red on the concrete.

"Go call 9.1.1," Teresa whispers when she sees his chest rising and falling.

His eyes are closed. He's breathing but she can't see his eyes.

His blue eyes are the only way she knows that he's okay and he won't open them.

There're several empty bottles of champagne scattered by the Jacuzzi and a broken wine glass in his hand.

She knows he wasn't drinking. He must've been cleaning up after Kirsten. He must've slipped. The tile is wet and he must've slipped. She should've made him buy newer shoes; the faded sneakers on his feet are smooth on the bottom from wear.

He wears boots all day and she'd bought him the sneakers so he didn't have to do the housework in steel-toed boots. He always wore them because he knows that she likes them. God….

"Ryan? Ryan, please, talk to me," she whispers.

But he doesn't move. He doesn't talk. His head is bleeding and she needs him. She needs him so much. This can't happen.

She needs him to look at her. She needs him to open his eyes. She needs him not to bleed.

Summer is talking on the phone when Teresa glances up again.

"I don't know if we have insurance, Summer…but they have to come and help him," Teresa whispers.

"They're coming…. Kirsten's passed out inside; he must've taken her in before he fell…." Summer kneels beside Teresa and takes Ryan's limp wrist between her fingers.

"He's going to be okay. He'll be okay…."

"He's going to be fine, Teresa, Chino's tough…. We'll be laughing about this tomorrow, okay?"

Teresa nods with tears in her eyes. Summer gets up to meet the ambulance when they first hear the sirens.

He'll be okay. He will be okay.

****

I'm so tired, I'm feeling so upset  
Although I'm so tired, I'll have another cigarette  
And curse Sir Walter Raleigh. He was such a stupid git.

He is such a dumbass. He knocked himself out. God, he'd been beaten, he'd even been stabbed before but this is the first time he's ever had to go to the hospital because of something that was truly an accident.

Teresa hasn't left his side. Summer hasn't left, either. The two brunettes have successfully put the fear of God into the nurses that are trying to help him. He's finally getting released after hours of tests and poking from the doctors.

The girls are fiercely protective of him, they barely let him answer the doctor's questions.

His head is killing him when they finally tell him he can go.

They shaved part of his head so they could put in the stitches. Teresa has his clipped hair in a bag in her purse.

She hates to throw anything away. He doesn't question her.

"Get away from him, skank, we're taking him home," Summer snarls at the nurse when she tries to push Ryan's wheelchair. The lady raises her hands and steps away.

Teresa waits until he sits in the wheelchair before giving Summer a nod. Summer starts pushing the wheelchair toward the exit.

They haven't called the Cohens. Kirsten was passed out when he'd found her in the Jacuzzi earlier. He'd carried her inside, wrapped her robe around her body and laid her on the bed before going back to clean up.

He doesn't really remember what happened. He slipped. He woke up in the hospital.

Once they're outside, he stands up and Summer pushes the wheelchair back into the ER. Teresa has her arm around his shoulders.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

Summer returns but doesn't speak, she rushes across the parking lot and, within moments, has her car idling by the curb. He gets into the front seat and sighs.

"You scared the hell out of us, Chino," Summer says once they're on the highway.

"I'm sorry."

"You could've died. How long were you lying there?" Teresa asks. "Kirsten is so oblivious --"

"She's sick. It wasn't her fault."

"She's not sick, she's drunk. She's always drunk," Summer mutters under her breath.

"I'm okay," he whispers, and wishes it were true. Teresa's hand settles on his shoulder and he's grateful for her support. She knows he's lying. She knows him.

"I called your boss and told him that you needed a few days off. He's going to call tomorrow to check on you. I have the weekend off at the bakery. You're going to take it easy. Okay?"

He nods. He won't question her. Not after all she's done for him.

Summer parks in the driveway, having made record time from the hospital.

"Sandy's home," Summer says quietly.

"I need to clean up the mess by the pool…." Ryan mumbles halfheartedly to himself as he remembers.

"No. You're going to bed. I'll take care of everything," Teresa says quietly. She opens his door from the outside.

"Will you guys be okay?" Summer asks.

"Thanks, Summer. For everything. We'll be okay," Teresa answers. Ryan squeezes Summer's hand gently before stepping out.

"Call me tomorrow, okay?" Summer says.

"Sure," Ryan nods. Teresa keeps her arm around his waist as her car pulls away.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed."

He walks slowly because she's holding him too tightly for him to take long strides.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"I know. It's not your fault," she replies. "I'm just really glad you're okay."

When they turn the corner around the house, they see Sandy staring at the mess by the Jacuzzi. The bottles and blood are still there.

"Teresa, Ryan, what happened?" Sandy asks, concern and fear dripping from his words. He looks so tired; his face is drawn and his hair is peppered with more gray than Ryan remembers.

"I slipped. It's nothing."

"All this blood and you say it's nothing?" Sandy asks, falling into step with them as they continue to the poolhouse.

"He's got a few stitches, Mr. Cohen, but the doctor says he was really lucky. I'm supposed to wake him up every couple of hours," Teresa says.

"What happened?"

"I slipped."

"The bottles…."

"Ryan was cleaning up after Kirsten and he slipped," Teresa says quietly.

Sandy pales. "Kirsten…she's sleeping…. She doesn't know?"

"She drinks, Mr. Cohen. A lot. She's always sleeping when you get home because she drinks all day," Teresa says slowly.

"Teresa, stop," Ryan whispers.

Sandy sits down in the chair across from the bed.

"She has a problem, Mr. Cohen. Ryan could've lain out there for hours," Teresa says. Ryan looks at her and she stops talking. She sits down beside him on the bed. He puts his arm around her and she leans against him.

"I…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ryan." Sandy looks thoroughly overwhelmed.

"It's okay. She's upset about Seth. She'll be fine once he comes home."

"She drinks all day?"

Ryan nods. He hates that Sandy doesn't know. He hates that he has to be the one to tell him that his wife is an alcoholic. He hates that he's the reason Seth left in the first place and caused all this. He hates seeing what he's done to their family.

"Ryan…I'm so sorry." Sandy repeats, this time forfeiting to his exhaustion by answering in a whisper.

"Mr. Cohen, he needs to sleep."

Sandy stands up and goes to his side. He gently pushes Ryan's head down so he can see the stitches. "You sure you're okay?"

Ryan nods.

"You're still on our insurance, how'd you pay?" Sandy's gentle touch around the stitches makes him wince.

"We took care of it," Teresa says quietly. She whispers something in Ryan's ear about resting and he lies down. She stands up and takes Sandy outside.

He wants to know what Teresa is saying but he's too tired to call out to her or follow her out. He's dizzy and tired and he knows that things are going to change again. He's messed up again. He let Sandy down. He let everyone down again. He wants a cigarette but he's too tired to get up. He'll ask Teresa when she wakes him up later.

****

You'd say, I'm putting you on  
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm

"He's tired, Mr. Cohen."

"It's Sandy. You know that." He wishes that she would listen and stop calling him Mister. Teresa is Ryan's girlfriend, she should feel like a part of the family. His family. His family that's in shambles.

"Sandy. He's tired. Every night he comes home and cleans up the house. He makes her eat and puts her to bed when she falls asleep. He takes care of her. He doesn't want to upset you so he doesn't say anything. He's so tired, Sandy."

"I'm sorry, Teresa. I…I've been so caught up in Caleb's case that I…I thought Kirsten was doing better. I never intended Ryan to have to take care of her."

"That's what he does. He takes care of people. Now, I'm going to take care of him. Maybe you should talk to your wife. He's not going anywhere."

He reaches out for her as she turns away. She turns to face him. "I'm sorry, Teresa."

"I know." She steps toward him and pulls him into a hug, patting his back. "It'll work out, Sandy. Seth will come home and everything will work out. Ryan and I will help in any way that we can." She releases him. "But Kirsten needs your help now more than Caleb or Seth."

"Ryan…."

"I'll take care of Ryan." She closes the door behind her.

Kirsten's drinking. All day. She's not working, she's not doing housework, she's not taking care of herself. As he walks back toward the house, he tries to remember the last time he talked to her but he can't.

He's been so busy trying to save her father that he didn't see that she was in trouble. He's let her down. He's lost her son, he's losing her father and he's going to lose her, too.

He goes into their bedroom and sees her sleeping on top of the covers. She's wearing her robe but when he pulls at the belt, he sees that she's only in her bathing suit underneath. He shakes her, gently, sitting beside her.

"Hmm?"

"Kirsten, wake up. We have to talk."

Her blue eyes are glazed and he wishes that it was just with sleep but he can smell the alcohol on her breath when she smiles at him. "Hey, honey."

"Kirsten. Have you been drinking?"

"Today? I had a glass or two of champagne." She yawns, sitting up.

"Is that all?"

"I think so. What's wrong?"

"You're drinking. All the time."

Her face hardens. "Who told you that? Ryan? He doesn't know anything…."

Sandy's slapped in the face by her bitterness. "Kirsten."

"So what, Sandy? What am I supposed to do? Seth's gone, Dad's going to jail and I never even see you. Ryan's not my son and I refuse to give him all my attention just because I can't have Seth," she snaps.

He's never heard her talk like this. She's cold and angry. She's drunk. She's not the woman he married.

"You know he almost died tonight."

Something flickers across her face. "What are you talking about?"

"He slipped when he was cleaning up your bottles. He split his head open by the pool. Get up." Sandy pulls her to her feet and pushes her to the window so he can make her look at the bloodstain beside the pool. "Look. You see that blood? He carried you inside and fell when he went back. He lay there _bleeding_, Kirsten, until Teresa found him. He would've died. He would've died out there while you were in here sleeping it off."

"Sandy…."

"I don't know what you think you're doing by being this way, but it has to stop. What's wrong with you?"

"I didn't know that he…." She raises a shaky hand and points to the bloody mess on the other side of the window.

"I'll put you in the hospital before I'll let you act this way. Seth's gone but we'll find him. D'you want him to come home and see you like this? D'you want your son to see you like this? Is this who you want to be?"

"Sandy…." She has tears in her eyes and he knows that something he's said has gotten through to her. "I'm sorry."

"I'm trying to help your father. I'm trying to help Seth. I'm trying to keep your family intact, Kirsten but I can't do it without you. You need to get some help. Kirsten…I love you…will you let me help you?"

"Is…is he okay?" Her eyes remain locked on the red-stained concrete surrounding the pool.

"Teresa's taking care of him. Let me take care of you."

****

You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain  
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane

No one's answering the phone at his house. He's called Summer but she's not answering, either, her phone just rings and it doesn't feel right for him to leave a message. What the hell would he say?

He's in Newport. Now he just has to go home.

His father's car is not in the driveway when the taxi drops him off. His mother's Range Rover is parked beside Teresa's convertible. He hopes Ryan's here so he can talk to him. He hopes that he's ready to talk to him.

He hopes that his family will talk to him period.

He tries the front door but it's locked and when he tries his key, it unlocks, but the chain holds the door closed.

He walks around the edge of the house onto the patio.

He sees Teresa on her knees beside the Jacuzzi. She's scrubbing and doesn't hear him. He drops his bag as he makes his way to stand beside her. She's round with pregnancy, further along than he expected.

"What happened here?" he asks.

She turns to look up at him with little to no reaction. "Ryan had an accident."

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Teresa responds, slamming the rough brush down against the soapy surface. "We've been here. We've been here since you ran away."

"I didn't run away."

"Okay." She sits back, looks up and stares at him for a second, like she's trying to determine whether or not this is reality. He lets her examine him; he barely believes that he's here either. Once her eyes have scanned his entire form, she lets out a satisfied sigh and nod and continues. "We live here, now. Ryan and I stay in the poolhouse."

Seth realizes that the dark stain is blood. "Is he okay?"

"He's resting. Your father and mother are…Sandy will be back soon. He'll talk to you."

He realizes that she doesn't want to tell him something. She's not lying to him but she's not telling him everything. Something's wrong. Something bad has happened.

She slowly gets to her feet, dropping the brush into the soapy bucket beside the stain. "Come on, Ryan would never forgive me if I didn't wake him up."

Seth leaves his bag beside the pool and follows her. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she answers curtly and immediately changes the subject. "Have you called Summer?"

"I tried."

"You should try again. She's worried. Everyone's been worried." She turns to him by the door. "I'm glad you're back."

"Thanks." He's relieved to hear it. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Ryan?" Teresa pushes open the door and leads him inside.

"Hmm?" Ryan has his arm stretched across his face and he's lying on his side. Black stitches stand out against the blond of his hair.

"Seth's here." Teresa turns and walks back outside, leaving them alone.

Ryan rolls over and regards him. His blue eyes are bright. "Seth?"

"Hey, man. You're back."

"You, too," Ryan says quietly. He sits up.

"What happened out there?"

"Busted my head. I slipped." He grins at Seth. "It's damned good to see you, man."

"I really needed to hear you say that."

Ryan slowly gets to his feet and stands up. He grabs Seth's arm and pulls him into a hug. Seth holds onto him a long time before he lets him go.

"I'm sorry, man."

"I know. Me, too."

"What's going on with Mom and Dad? Where's Rosa?"

"Sit down, Seth. You've been gone way too long."

****

You know I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind


End file.
